


Tears and Tender Kisses

by WillowsMyot



Category: Alien (1979), Aliens (1986)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Femslash February, Mentions of PTSD and Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 15:50:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3494024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowsMyot/pseuds/WillowsMyot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only thing they have left when they get out of cryo is each other. <br/>Snippet from an Alternate Universe set during the Aliens time period where Ripley and Lambert both make it off the Nostromo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tears and Tender Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> Another piece written for Femslash February last month.

Ripley walks into her bedroom and sees Lambert with her back turned, sitting slouched on the edge of their shared bed. She stares down at the floor in a daze, dressed in a white t-shirt and loose pants, her blonde hair unkempt. Neither of them were able to sleep alone after coming back and they wordlessly agreed to spend their nights—as well as most of their days—together in an attempt to stave off the nightmares.

She pads across the room and up to their bed, reaching out to run a hand through the buzzed back of Lambert’s short, mussed hair. One of the first things Lambert did when she got back was cut her hair short above her ears; Ripley had done the same. In some way, they had tried to rid themselves of the people that they were aboard the Nostromo.

Ripley lowers herself on the bed so that she sits down behind Lambert. She kisses the bare nape of Lambert’s neck tenderly as she slowly twines her arms between hers, clasping her hands around her waist. She folds her body against Lambert’s small frame, pressing her cheek against the woman’s shoulder. Lambert visibly shivers.

“I can’t stop thinking about that thing,” she says, brushing her fingers over Ripley’s hand, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” Ripley replies, sincerely. She presses another soft kiss against Lambert’s neck. “I can’t either.”

Lambert turns around, prompting Ripley to let go of her, and brings her legs up off the floor and onto the bed. As her eyes search Ripley’s face her brows begin to knit together. She chews on her lip anxiously, her throat tightening.

“If you hadn’t come back for me in time…” Lambert’s breath hitches and she lets out a restrained whimper. The thought sets tears welling in her big blue eyes. “I don’t…I don’t want to imagine what would have happened to me.” She squeaks out the words and Ripley is reminded of the hysterical and frightened Lambert she saw on the Nostromo, someone so unlike the cocky, sarcastic navigator she knew.

Lambert begins to fold in on herself as she weeps, hugging her arms close to her body, fingernails biting into her pale skin. Her shoulders hunch up towards her ears as her chin dips down towards her sternum. Ripley’s brows come together, forehead creasing at the sight of Lambert filled with such grief. She bites down on her bottom lip, searching for comforting words. The alien encounter on the Nostromo had damaged the two of them considerably and — coupled with losing 57 years in cryosleep—they were both just barely keeping it together. But Lambert, high-strung and anxiety-riddled by nature, bore the brunt of their shared psychological trauma. Saying that she was having a hard time coping would be a painful understatement. Breakdowns like this were routine and it made Ripley’s heart absolutely ache.

Ripley runs her hands over Lambert’s shuttering shoulders, squeezing them gently. She leans in towards her, voice gentle and reassuring. “But none of that happened. I got you.” Ripley pauses to lick her lips. She leans in closer towards Lambert, tilting her head to the side in an attempt to catch her eye. “I wasn’t able to get Parker but I got you. You’re here. You’re okay now.”

She takes Lambert’s flushed face in her hands, wiping her tears away with her thumbs. Lambert lifts her gaze to meet Ripley’s and attempts a small smile. She shakes her head out of Ripley’s hands and sniffs, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. Lambert rubs the wetness away from her eyes, streaking tears across her pink, blotchy cheeks and laughs to herself, nervously.

“I’m sorry, I know you must be feeling awful too,” she says guiltily, looking back down at her lap. “I don’t want to make this just about me. I’m sorry.” There’s a silence as Ripley mulls over her words, eyes downcast, fidgeting with the hem of Lambert’s shirt.

“I…I do. I am. Thinking about it all makes me want to be ill. I have nightmares. You know that.”

“Yeah.” Lambert murmurs. She slips her hands around Ripley’s waist and shuffles closer to her, head bowed. The two stay quiet, pensive, until Ripley gingerly reaches out to tilt Lambert’s chin up gently.

“Joan. Hey,” Ripley begins. “I don’t mind this,” she admits with a slight shake of her head. “I like taking care of you. I need this…someone to take care of.” Lambert smiles a small, tight smile and Ripley cups her face in one of her hands, caressing her damp cheek with a thumb. Lambert leans into the touch, her eyes beginning to water again. She smiles, relieved, and lets out a sigh that trickles into a laugh.

Ripley takes Lambert’s face in her hands again and they make eye contact briefly before Ripley leans in to kiss her lips. And in that moment, it’s just the two of them. There is no fear and no alien and no company and especially no strange man trying to get them back out there. It’s just Lambert warm against her, hands sliding up her back, the tip of her nose pressed against Ripley’s cheek.

They stay like that for a while, eyes closed, sharing comforting kisses, a dusting of blush across their cheeks until Ripley draws back, smiling bashfully. Lambert’s hands move from Ripley’s back to her shoulders and Ripley reaches up to stroke her cheek. She smooths down Lambert’s disheveled hair with her fingers.

“You wanna go to bed?”

Lambert runs a hand through her hair, spiking it back up again.

“Yeah.”


End file.
